


Skin To Bone (steel to rust)

by franticatlantic



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Kind of Alternative Universe, M/M, but not really because it's set while they're on tour and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:58:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8566636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franticatlantic/pseuds/franticatlantic
Summary: Add being a cyborg to the list of things Tyler still has yet to learn about Josh Dun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> quite a few people on tumblr asked for josh as a cyborg so here ya go!
> 
> title is from the song 'skin to bone' by linkin park.

The bus is crowded tonight, the show a success, the interviews over. The guests, some reporters from some random music magazine that will print an interview just like every other they’ve done in the coming weeks, have decided to stick around for a while because Mark offered. Which Tyler doesn’t mind, he just gets claustrophobic around too many people.

And everyone is now sufficiently drunk. Including himself. And Josh, whose hand he tugs on trying to get him to take the hint and follow him back to the bunks. Josh only has to look at Tyler to know he’s getting antsy sandwiched between all these people, especially people he’s not used to being around.

Without another word, Josh sets his beer down and slots his fingers between Tyler’s, starts leading him toward the back of the bus.

“Where’re they going?” Someone slurs.

Tyler hears Mark answer, but can’t make out what he says. He’s just glad Josh is here, holding onto him tightly and taking him away from all the noise and the new people. Who will now think he’s rude or weird or both, but Mark and the rest of the crew will understand. And they’re the only ones who matter.

And Josh, who takes him past the bunks and into the back room, where he shuts the door and mutes the sound of Mark now doing his drunk Arnold Schwarzenneger impression.

“Thanks,” Tyler sighs, collapses on the sofa and waits for the momentary dizzy spell to pass. He’s so drunk.

Josh takes a seat beside him, close, so that they’re pressed all along each other at their sides. Tyler doesn’t mind, in fact he prefers it this way. Josh is the only person he never gets sick of, the only person he feels truly at ease with. Sometimes he feels guilty for thinking it, but if he had continued on with Nick and Chris, if they had never left the band, he doesn’t think they would have made it this far. Because he would never have felt comfortable doing half the shit he does with Josh with them.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Josh places a heavy, comforting arm over Tyler’s shoulders.

“The band,” Tyler says truthfully, and lets his head fall back, pillowed against Josh’s arm as he stares at the stucco ceiling, pointlessly counting the grifts and hills he sees there.

“What about it?” Josh asks, and his voice is low and breathy in Tyler’s ear.

Tyler wishes they could stay like this forever, that this was a thing they could always do. But there are always phones or cameras or people watching. Josh himself had his first brush with a paparazzi over the summer, just before leaving to go on tour.

Josh wouldn’t want this anyway, Tyler tells himself. He likes girls.

Sometimes he feels guilty for thinking this, too, but he thinks maybe if he had been born female Josh would love him more. The way he wants him to.

He’s not answering fast enough for Josh’s liking, so Josh huffs and when he does his breath flutters at Tyler’s ear, ghosting just inside the canal. And Tyler squeaks, shooting up straight with a giggle. “That tickles!” He swings around, bringing his fist down on Josh’s shoulder playfully. But he’s drunk, and what he thinks is a playful love tap turns into a full on slug halfway through and Tyler’s fist collides with Josh’s arm and a solid thunk echoes in the tiny back room.

“Oh, holy _shit!_ ” Tyler shouts, and registers two things.

One, his arm feels like it’s on fire as he cradles it back against his chest, trying his best to work the kinks out after his fist collided with what felt like a solid brick wall. His bones are all bunched up so Tyler moves his fingers around, rolls his wrist against the pain.

“Jesus, Tyler, why would you do that?” Josh is pulling at his arm, inspecting where Tyler’s hand is shaking, poking and prodding.

“Uh, I didn’t know your arm was actually made out of concrete, bro.” As he says this, he registers the second thing.

Josh didn’t move. When Tyler punched him, there wasn’t so much as a flinch, a shift, even a whisper of movement on Josh’s part.

As Josh is examining his forearm, Tyler reaches out and gives a quick squeeze to Josh’s shoulder. He gasps at what he feels, and this does cause Josh to recoil, dropping Tyler’s arm and grabbing at his other hand, pushing it away from him. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Josh…” Tyler flexes the hand Josh is holding, thinking he must be _so_ super drunk right now. “…either I’m way more drunk than I thought or you have something in your shoulder. Like, literally. There’s something in there.”

He tries to wrench his hand free from Josh’s grip, but Josh holds tight, crushing his fingers to the point of it being painful. “Ow.”

Josh lets go, suddenly, and moves back on the couch, out of Tyler’s reach. “We should go to bed.”

Now both of Tyler’s hands feel like they’ve been put through a wood chipper. But he just finds it in himself to lean forward, crawling to Josh over the couch. “Let’s go together,” he says, and hates how awkward it sounds.

But the words work because Josh is letting him come close, bewildered, letting Tyler worm himself in between Josh’s thighs. “What? Tyler-“

Tyler reaches out, briskly, and gives a hard squeeze to Josh’s arm. There are sharp edges beneath the skin. “Ah, I knew it!”

There’s a blush rising up Josh’s handsome face and now he is trying to push Tyler away, saying they really should sleep, that they can do it together if Tyler wants, but they should do it soon anyhow.

“Aw, c’mon,” Tyler pouts, shaking his wrists where Josh has gathered them up. “Please tell me? I promise I won’t tell anyone else, you know I won’t. Please.”

Looking like he knows he would think better of this if he were sober, Josh sighs and closes his eyes. “I’m a cyborg.”

“You’re a what?”

“A cy-“

“No, I heard. Those don’t exist.”

“Actually,” Josh presses Tyler’s arms back toward him, “they do. If someone has a bad accident or something and needs a limb replacement, then they get a prosthetic. Mine’s a little different. It’s a prototype from a company called Lumerico. It’s stronger than a normal prosthetic and obviously looks more real, too. They were able to graft my skin over it.”

“How come I never knew about this?” Tyler asks sulkily. Josh normally tells him everything.

“Because I’m a _cyborg._ When would ever have been a good time for me to bring that up in conversation?”

“Um, the first night we met. That would have been such a cool story.” Tyler inches forward. “Can I feel more?”

Josh sighs and holds his arm out like he knows Tyler will just ask again anyway if he says no. He’s absolutely right.

Tyler runs his hands up along Josh’s arm, gripping intermittently, feeling the hard ridges of the metal underneath, the screws and bolts keeping it together. The hinges at Josh’s shoulder and elbow feel the weirdest - some sort of smooth tube with tiny bumps along the length. “So this is how you’re able to hit your drums so hard.”

Josh laughs and when he does the alloy beneath his skin gives a ripple of movement. Tyler widens his eyes and stills his hands. “So,” he starts, “you were in an accident?”

“When I was little. Jordan and I were riding our bikes down by the river and I fell, broke my arm in four places. There was no way to set it with a cast so that it’d heal properly. We didn’t have the best insurance so when Lumerico offered to give me this for free,” he jiggles his arm, “even though it was a prototype, my parents took the chance. I’m honestly glad they did.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

“Do you have to like…” Tyler feels stupid for asking, but he’s curious. “…go back every year to get a bigger one?”

“Nope. Grows with me.” Josh grins.

Tyler’s eyes go even wider. “I’m still convinced I’m just really drunk and you’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not. You are really drunk, though.”

“We both are.”

“What’d you mean?” Josh asks, and Tyler’s hands fall from his arm. “We should sleep together.”

“Nothing,” Tyler lies. “I was just saying that to throw you off your guard.”

“Mhm. Tyler.”

Tyler can’t lie to Josh, which makes him wonder how he got this far thinking Josh is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen without Josh knowing. “Can’t say I’ve ever slept with a cyborg, though…”

With his - and Tyler hates to use this term, but it’s the only one he can think of - _normal_ arm, Josh tips his chin up and leans in, brushes their lips together ever so softly. Tyler sighs and bucks, lays himself out against Josh and shivers. “You told me a pretty big secret so I guess I owe you one? I’m kinda in love with you.”

“Then let’s go to bed.” Josh pets Tyler’s damp hair back. “Or at least get in bed.”

“Question for you, though. When you jerk off, can you do it at inhuman speeds?”

“I guess you’ll find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> always taking requests at my [tumblr](http://vintagetyler.tumblr.com/).


End file.
